


Bodies At Rest

by celticmuse



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celticmuse/pseuds/celticmuse
Summary: This was a piece expanded from a song meme challenge inspired by "More Than LIfe" by WhitleyAn incident on an away team has life altering consequences.
Relationships: Christine Chapel/Spock
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Bodies At Rest

Spock awoke at precisely oh five hundred hours as was his custom when working the Alpha shift.

"Lights fifty percent."

He stretched out his muscles and rose from the bed. He glanced contritely at the stone slab before his firepot. It was his routine to engage in meditation before beginning his morning ablutions. However, he mused skimming off the t-shirt and soft drawstring pants he preferred for sleeping, this was not going to be a routine day. They would be beaming down to Avila II a small, Minshara class planet known for the medicinal properties of its many forms of plant life. 

He muttered a brief apologetic incantation to his ancestors as he deposited the clothing in the laundry slot and headed into the fresher. While he did feel an occasional stab of nostalgia for the former Enterprise where he's spent so many years of his life; he enjoyed the luxury of a private bathroom. James Kirk was the finest man he'd ever served under. He was like a brother. He was Spock's best friend, but he was apparently under the delusion that towels had tiny feet and could miraculously hang themselves back up on the towel rack. 

The fresher unit was preprogrammed for his normal morning sonic shower, but he overrode the controls and opted for the rare indulgence of a hot water shower, choosing the warm cedar fragranced soap that he recalled Chris Pike favored. Four months, he reflected as the soothing pulse of the steaming water warmed him to the core, only four months ago he was in the monastery at Gol attempting to purge every vestige of his humanity, to shred the very fabric of who he was. The encounter with the entity that called itself V'ger had shown him the fallacy of his previous assumptions of what it meant to be Vulcan and Human. It was not a battle of black and white where one side should win out. 

There was value in both sides of his nature; he understood and accepted that now, and he was committed to finding a balance between the two. But the habits formed over forty years it seemed would not be changed overnight. Now, he considered as he rubbed the liquid cleanser through his dark hair, he was working to rebuild relationships with the very people he had struggled to push away. 

It had been surprisingly easy reestablishing his connections the Jim and the rest of the bridge crew. Even McCoy was coming around, albeit in his own begrudging way. The relationship between himself and Christine Chapel, however, was a different story. Inertia: bodies at rest tend to stay at rest, bodies in motion tend to stay in motion. Doctor Chapel, it seemed, was indeed a "body in motion" and that motion seemed to be consistently directed away from him. 

She had felt love for him once, love that he had not been able to return, love that had caused her pain and had made their first tour of duty together problematic. He did not know if she still felt love for him. He had not asked and she had not volunteered the information. She was friendly toward him, but in a cool distant sort of way. 

Since his return to the ship they had developed an excellent working relationship. She was a gifted researcher and their highly diverse approaches to solving a problem made for an excellent partnership in the lab. He enjoyed their work together and would have enjoyed spending time with her off duty, but she was politely unreceptive to his attempts at establishing a friendship. She had stated quite firmly that she did not wish to "go there again". He wasn't sure where "there" was or when they had been there in the past, but he understood that she did not wish to spend time with him outside of the lab and he honored her wishes. He wondered briefly if V'ger would have understood the concept of irony. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It's the Garden of Eden!" Doctor McCoy exclaimed as they materialized on the idyllic planet with its sapphire blue sky, and lush verdant landscape.

"Paradise, by its very nature is fleeting, Doctor," Spock responded dryly. "You and the Captain are to rejoin the landing party for beam out at nineteen-hundred hours ship's time." 

"Yeah and you'll be Lucifer with a sword chasing us out of this garden," McCoy laughed. 

"According to the painting in my mother's study it was an angel who drove your ancestors out of Eden, and if I recall the story correctly they were banished for their transgressions against their creator." He had been perhaps four years old when his mother explained the story of the painting. For some inexplicable reason he had been fascinated by the red chicken, who had no part in the transgression but was expelled from paradise nonetheless. He had questioned his father concerning the injustice of the chicken's fate. Sarek had posited the artist had perhaps intended it as a cautionary tale on the necessity of choosing one's associates judiciously. 

Was it the curse of human nature, he wondered, their seemingly endless search for a paradise that they were unable to recognize until it was lost to them? He would have to add that to his ever expanding list of topics for meditation. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spock enclosed the last of the botanical samples into the appropriately labeled specimen container, making detailed notes in his tricorder, before carefully stowing his collection into the designated stasis container in his pack. Avila II, was proving to be a treasure trove of medicinal plant life, and the samples he had collected showed exceptional promise. Reflexively he attempted to stave off the unexpected feeling of pleasure in a job well done. 

Illogical, he corrected himself. Accept the feeling, process it, and move through it. 

To accept the existence of emotion was not the same as allowing oneself to be ruled by emotion. Indeed, he had learned it was illogical to deny the reality of feelings. The Vulcan way did not require that pretense; he alone had placed that onerous burden onto himself. 

As he hoisted up his pack the unmistakable whine of a communicator in distress mode pierced the calm afternoon. Calculating quickly he estimated the sound was coming from approximately one half mile west of his current position. Spock moved quickly over the crest of the hill and down the steeply sloping terrain, his highly developed Vulcan sense of hearing honed in on the sound emanating from the other side of the stand of tall trees. Methodically scanning the area that bordered the small lake he spotted Lieutenant DeSalle at the base of a large tree, curled up into a ball rocking himself side to side and moaning softly. 

"Lieutenant," he addressed the officer crisply making a preliminary scan of the injured man with his tricorder, "Your status." 

"Fell…from the tree, sir…" he ground out hoarsely, "leg…my leg… I think it's broken." 

"Medical," he spoke into the communicator, "I have a crewman down, broken leg possibly other injuries, requesting medtech team to stabilize for transport, please lock on to my coordinates. Spock out." 

"Help is coming Lieutenant," Spock assured DeSalle as he squatted down beside him and ran a second, more detailed scan. "If I might enquire, Mister LaSalle, as to exactly what you were doing in the tree?" 

DeSalle vainly attempted to muster some bit of dignity as he lay in the shadow of his superior officer. "I was upgrading subspace relays about halfway up, sir." 

"Had you achieved your objective, Lieutenant?" He enquired as he studied the readout on the scanner. It appeared DeSalle had a clean break to the femur, and possibly a concussion. 

"Negative, Commander. The new relay components are still in my kit." The man gestured weakly toward the upper branches of the tree and Spock caught a glimpse of the distinctive Engineering red pack which DeSalle had securely fastened to one of the limbs. 

"Engineering," Spock spoke again into his communicator. "Mister Scott." 

"Aye Mister Spock." 

"Lieutenant DeSalle has been injured and will be unable to complete the upgrades to the subspace relays. Can you beam down a tech to finish the installation?" 

"Sorry, sir, but I've got everyone here tied up with the recalibration of the antimatter containment field. I'll need to recall someone from leave. It looks like Davison is the closest to your location. I'll have Rand notify him and arrange to beam him to your coordinates." 

Spock considered the possibility for a moment. His own samples had been collected, and he was perfectly capable of replacing the equipment himself. Ensign Davison was a fine young officer and had more than earned this brief shore leave. 

"Unnecessary, Mister Scott, I will affect the refitting myself. Spock out." 

As he snapped the tiny communications device back onto the waistband of his uniform, the soft shimmer of the transporter beam solidified next to the injured DeSalle and a pair of men in Life Science blue materialized. 

"What the hell, Vinnie?" the taller of the two the men called out to the stricken officer. The man, whom Spock recognized as Ensign Morell, was one of the new medtechs they'd taken on at Starbase 13 just a few weeks ago. "I thought you were coming down here to seal the deal… what happened? Did she push you out of the tree?" The other tech let loose a raucous laugh unaware that the First Officer was standing behind them. 

"Gentlemen, Mr DeSalle appears to have a broken femur, and based on my scans he may have suffered some minor head trauma as well." 

The color drained from the startled faces of the two medtechs as they turned to meet the Vulcan's commanding gaze. 

"Aye sir!" both snapped in unison and immediately began ministering to the injured DeSalle. 

Within a few moments they had LaSalles leg in a brace, and after determining that there was no other serious damage, the team and their patient disappeared in the dancing lights of the transport beam. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spock studied the massive tree briefly finding it surprisingly similar to a Terran oak, though its seedpods were considerably more complex. Starting with a low hanging branch he made his way up through the thick limbs until he reached the hidden relays, then carefully settled himself onto a sturdy branch before retrieving the red pack with the new relays. It took barely ten minutes to replace the equipment, test it and put it back online. 

It was an exceptionally pleasant day, and a soft, warm breeze washed over him rustling the large green leaves. The fresh air was a welcome change after four months of breathing the stale recirculated atmosphere of the Enterprise. Four months ago he'd been walking under the soft orange sky of Vulcan, the hot sand beneath his feet. His path had seemed so clear then, but he had found no answers in the monastery of Gol. It seemed another lifetime now, he realized searching the cloudless ultramarine sky above him. 

He felt no regret over the new path he had chosen, but there were times he found himself longing for the quiet solitude of Vulcan. Living and working among more than four hundred humans could be daunting, and the effort it took to constantly shield his mind from their tangled, chaotic thoughts and volatile, illogical emotions left him exhausted at times. He closed his eyes as another gentle breeze swept over him and for the first time in months he allowed his mental shields to drop away and opened his mind completely. 

A leaf floated aimlessly in the breeze; he allowed himself to become the leaf, being carried tenderly, almost reverently, through the warm afternoon air unconcerned with his destination focused simply on the pleasure of the journey. Nearby a bird sang, its song as simple as a tinwhistle, as complex as a symphony orchestra; he became the song and his katra sang in harmony. A beam of sunlight broke through the tangle of leaves illuminating the mirror like surface of the placid lake. He was the beam and reveled in the warmth of the light as it sliced through the cool clear water to explore the murky depths teaming with life below. 

A scent in the breeze took him unaware. It was sweet, visceral, vaguely familiar and certainly not unpleasant; he took a deep breath and allowed the fragrance to possess him. His senses were suddenly heightened. The sky was bluer, the grass below greener, and the air sweeter. He was aware of the slight roughness of the light blue jumpsuit as it moved over his skin. The sound of a twig snapping told him the interloper was very close. There was a soft musical sound, it was a human female and she was humming. 

He started to clear his throat to alert her to his presence when she came into sight below him. Spock immediately recognized Doctor Christine Chapel clothed in a Life Science blue jumpsuit as she stopped a few meters from the base of the tree set down her packs and spread out a small coverlet. She tugged a slivery clip from her hair and shook her head allowing a mass of dark brown curls to spill out over the shoulders of the coverall before casually tossing it onto the coverlet. He knew he should make his presence known to her immediately, but found himself inexplicably silent. 

She kicked off the heavy regulation boots and sat down on one of the large flat rocks overhanging the edge of the small lake. After skinning off her socks and tucking them into the boots, she carefully rolled up the legs of the jumpsuit to her knees. Lying back on the smooth rock she dangled her feet into the clear water. Her easy smile and soft sigh of satisfaction telegraphed her pleasure with the temperature of the water. 

She is so lovely. The unexpected thought startled him, but he stifled the impulse to suppress it. It was, he assured himself, merely an observation of an objective fact. He had always considered her aesthetically pleasing, but now with her fair skin scrubbed clean of the elaborate makeup she had worn in the past, her shiny dark hair, and the aura of quiet self confidence about her, she was even more so. 

She was standing on the sunlit rock now staring out across the lake, the soft breeze making a tangle of her dark curls. He saw this as his opportunity to make his presence known. He would subtlety imply that he'd been busy with the relays and had not noticed her presence, what Jim referred to as a "white" lie. It was an inelegant solution to be sure, but a solution nonetheless. 

He was about to call out to her when to his surprise, she opened the fasteners of the one piece garment and allowed it to slide down her body pooling around her feet revealing a decidedly non-regulation lacy pink brassiere and thong. 

His course of action was clear, though he wasn't sure of the words he would use, it was imperative he make his presence known to her immediately before this went any further. He opened his mouth but before he could speak she turned back toward him as she stretched her arms over her head, the pose undeniably provocative. In stunned silence he watched as she turned back toward the lake, then slowly removed her lacy undergarments. With a flourish worthy of a Risan pleasure girl she turned toward him again and tossed the lingerie onto the blanket, then tossed the coverall as well. 

_"In all the right places"_

One evening in the Officer's Mess Christine had been lamenting the ten pounds she'd put on between her tours on the Enterprise. As she walked away Jim has leaned close to Dr. McCoy and whispered "It's certainly in all of the right places." He had not understood his friend's remark at the time, but the meaning was eminently clear to him now. Her body was exquisite, with lush, full breasts and softly curved hips. 

It was too late to make himself known, but he could at least turn away and allow her some privacy, that was the only honorable course left open to him, yet he was not able to take his eyes off of her soft alabaster curves. She was like a sculpture from the Terran Renaissance, but not cold marble, she was warm and most alive indeed. He praised the gods of his forefathers when, still turned toward his hiding place she began a series of languid yoga like stretches before jumping into the water. 

For almost a quarter of an hour he watched in singular fascination as she moved through the crystal clear lake, jumping and diving like a mythical water nymph. He felt the incipient tingling in his groin and struggled to control his heart rate and blood flow to the problematic organ, but the sight of her body slick with the glistening water had eroded his mental disciplines and he found himself awash in images the two of them lying unclothed together on the small blanket, her body pressed tightly to his. What would it feel like to touch that milky white skin? To press his lips on the soft swell of her creamy breasts, his tongue circling the rosy nipples now taut and hardened by the cool water. 

_Kroykah!_ He struggled to grasp some last shred of the Vulcan disciplines but it was too late. More images flowed through him. Yes, he would touch her, but she would touch him; she would feel desire for him as well. Her smooth cool hands would glide over him like spring rain in the desert, touching the dryness within him, bringing him to life. 

It seemed like an eternity, but his internal time sense told him that 14.377 minutes passed before she finally emerged from the water like Bottecelli's Venus, glistening drops of water falling from her body like a shower of diamonds. Using the coverlet, she dried herself quickly then slipped back into her lacy undergarments and jumpsuit. Gathering her things she climbed slowly up the hill and walked in the direction of the beam out site. 

It took a full ten minutes of deep breathing and every scrap of mental discipline that he could muster but his body reluctantly returned to its normal state. It would take a much longer time, he mused, to recenter his mind to any semblance of normalcy. There could be no excuse, no explanation for what he had done. His violation of her privacy was unconceivable, how would he ever face her knowing what he had done? 

++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Final beam out in twenty five minutes." Lieutenant Commander Uhura's voice coming from the communicator startled him out of his guilty reverie. "Please report to your designated site in fifteen minutes." 

He unfastened DeSalle's pack from the tree with a sigh. He would be facing her in fifteen minutes, ready or not. 

He walked to the beam out point like a condemned man headed for the gallows, each footstep bringing him closer to an unthinkable fate. Guilt, remorse, lust, he sighed, there would be no shortage of topics for meditation in the foreseeable future. 

He found Kirk and McCoy, both among those who had been randomly chosen for leave, already at the meeting point with their packs and hiking gear arguing amiably with Sulu and Chekov over which bar on Risa made the best Cardassian Sunrise. He wondered if they knew how much he enjoyed their playful banter, or how many times that he'd wished he could join in. He believed that they did know how much he valued their friendship, despite his inability to express it to them in words. 

He spotted Christine a few meters away sorting through the specimen containers in her pack. She was chewing her lower lip absently her pale skin now rosy pink from the exposure to the broader spectrum of UV light of the Avilian sun. 

"How was your swim?" Nyota whispered smiling. 

"Lonely," she responded with a frown. 

"Prepare for beam out." Kirk announced gathering up his belongings. 

"We're missing Lieutenant DeSalle, sir." Uhura responded. 

“Lieutenant DeSalle has been returned to the ship." Spock responded. 

"Returned to the ship?" Kirk asked. 

"The Lieutenant injured himself while replacing the subspace relay arrays and was returned to the ship." 

"Is he alright?" Christine asked. 

"He has a broken femur and a mild concussion." 

"What about the relays?" Kirk asked. 

"I was able to finish the installation myself, Captain." 

Kirk nodded his approval as he positioned himself for beam out and the others fell into position around him. He grinned broadly. "It's good…all of us," he paused briefly at the surge of emotion, "It's good being together again. Energize." +++++++++++++++++++ "Skinny dipping?" Janice Rand's raucous laugher filled the Officer's Lounge, as Christine Chapel's face turned a bright pink. Nyota Uhura finished opening the bottle of chilled Deltan wine and poured a generous glass of the amethyst colored liquid for each of her friends before filling her own glass. 

"I don't think it counts as skinny dipping if there no one there to see the skinny." Uhura countered as she seated herself. 

"Kind of like the tree that falls in the forest thingy. Hey, at least you guys got to go planetside," Rand said glumly. "I swear to the gods, if one more redshirt calls for beam out without having the slightest clue of his coordinates I'm gonna beam him into the freaking Romulan Neutral Zone. 'Reguest for beam out.' "Your location please?' 'Planetside'. Seriously? Where the hell else would you be if you're requesting beam out for the love of heaven?" 

"Hey, I've had more than my share of comm requests where they don't know which quadrant of the galaxay the recipient lives in much less the planet," Nyota chimed in with a laugh. 

"Oh that's nothing." Chapel responded. "When you've had to get the yearly sperm samples for the crew physicals we'll talk. You hand them the cup and they sort of look at you like, huh what am I supposed to do with this?" 

"How's DeSalle?" Kirk asked. 

"Femur's about healed. He'll need another session with the bone knitter. With the concussion I'll be keeping him overnight just to be on the safe side. He should be back on duty within seventy-two hours. It was a lucky break you were so close by, Spock" 

Spock shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair as he tried unsuccessfully to tune out the conversation of the three women seated at the small table across the dining room. Though not fully conversant with human euphemisms, he was able to infer that "skinny dipping" apparently referred to Doctor Chapel's afternoon swim in the nude. As the image of the dark haired doctor emerging from the lake, her fair skin glistening from the clear water formed, the incipient tingling in his groin reasserted itself, and with considerable force of Vulcan will he was able to reroute the blood flow to a more prudent venue. 

It was an impossible situation. Unlike most Vulcans, humans mated for the mutual sharing of pleasure and to deepen the intimacy of the relationship. He was uncertain of what would be required to pleasure a human female, and quite certain that he would be unable to properly meet her emotional needs. 

"Yes doctor," Spock agreed absently not willing to allow McCoy to know that he had not been following their conversation. He hoped he'd not conceded some major point of Vulcan science or philosophy to the doctor that would come back to haunt him later. 

"Well Jim boy mark this date on the calendar, Spock and I agree on something." 

"Strictly from a statistical standpoint, Doctor it was bound to happen at some point." Spock conceded with the ubiquitous raising of the eyebrow. "Once every eight years sounds about right." 

McCoy accepted the Vulcan's barb with a warm laugh. Spock had missed sparring with McCoy more than he would ever admit. This easy camaraderie between the three of them, how could he have been willing to give this up? This was beyond V'ger's comprehension, this need for connection. He had viewed the need as a weakness within himself, a sign that his decision to live among humans had been an error. But now he could see that there was strength in connection; it fostered loyalty, trust and honor. 

But there had been no honor in what he had done to Christine he realized dolefully. He had betrayed her trust and dishonored them both with his violation of her privacy. Beyond the moral implications, as a superior officer his act would be chargeable as Conduct Unbecoming an Officer under Starfleet regulations. 

Across the room he watched as Christine rose from the table and said goodbye to Uhura and Rand. As she walked out the doors to the turbolift he realized that here was only one honorable course of action open to him. He would have to tell her what he'd done, and offer her the opportunity to file charges against him. After making a succinct goodbye to Kirk and McCoy he quickly followed her out into the hall to the lift. 

Christine had just pressed the touch screen and programmed the code for the medical labs when he reached through the closing doors to stop the lift. 

"Commander," she smiled as she greeted him, the sweet but cool smile he'd become accustomed to over the past months. It was unlikely that she would be greeting him with anything but contempt after this conversation, and he found his resolve to confess his transgression to her wavering. 

"Doctor Chapel," he responded anxiously, suddenly realizing that he had no destination to program into the panel. He punched in the code for the medical labs and the doors closed with a soft swoosh. 

Determined, he reached across her and hit the emergency stop panel. The jolt of the abrupt stop would have knocked Christine to the floor of the lift but for his lightening quick reflexes as he grabbed her arms tightly and steadied her until the lift car stopped shaking. 

"What the…" she asked shaken as he released her from his grip. "I am sorry, Doctor Chapel… Christine. I need to speak with you." "Christine? Well it must be serious for you to use my first name." There was an unmistakable edge in her voice, and he realized that this omission was an obviously sore spot between them. 

"It is quite serious. I have something which I must confess." 

"I'm a doctor, Commander, not a priest," she said attempting a note of levity. His raised eyebrow told her the attempt had fallen flat. 

"If I may continue? This afternoon after you collected your samples you had occasion to take a swim in the lake point nine three seven seven miles from the beam out point." 

Christine's rosy cheeks paled. "Yes, I worked through my meal break and finished early." She responded warily. "I logged that as personal time if that is your concern, Commander." 

"I have no concerns about how your time was logged, Doctor. As a matter of personal honor I must inform you that I was in the tree next to the lake upgrading the subspace relay arrays as you took your swim." 

Chapels face flushed a bright pink. "I see." 

"I should have alerted you to my presence immediately. To have not done so, and to have continued to observe you in…. in that state, was a most grievous violation of your privacy, and a serious violation of Starfleet regulations. I wanted to inform you that I am putting the incident on report for Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and if you wish to add charges of sexual harassment I will include those as well and will make no effort to contend the charges. I have no logical explanation for my actions, and I will not presume to think that you would be willing to forgive this breach of propriety. You have always treated me with the greatest kindness and respect and I cannot begin to convey the shame I feel for my actions." 

"Charges like that could end your career, Spock." 

Spock sighed leaning back against the cold steel wall of the turbo lift. "Yes, I understand that is a possible outcome, but I can see no other honorable path before me." 

"I see." She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the wall of the lift next to him. "It would only be conduct unbecoming if you had watched me without my knowledge, is that not correct?" 

"What are you saying, Christine? You knew I was watching you?" 

"I didn't know it was you…well at least not at first." she confessed shyly. "I thought you were Vince." 

"Vince?" 

'DeSalle." 

"Lieutenant DeSalle? You were… displaying yourself for Lieutenant DeSalle?" He felt a sudden coldness in the pit of his stomach as he suddenly realized the nature of the "deal" DeSalle had been intending to seal planetside. "You are in love with Lieutenant DeSalle?" 

Christine sighed, and slid down along the wall of the lift dropping herself unceremoniously to the floor. 

"Love would be something of an overstatement. We've been sort of …seeing one another." 

"Seeing one another indeed, Doctor." Christine looked up, embarrassed but startled by his peevish tone. 

"It's nothing serious, just kind of flirting. He's been hinting about something more." 

"'At first', you said you did not know it was me at first… but later?" 

She returned her gaze to the floor. "When I turned around the first time I saw the blue sleeve of your jumpsuit and the Commander's stripes though the leaves." 

"But you continued to," he paused for a moment and took a deep breath, "you continued with your activity." 

"When you didn't reveal yourself… for a moment I thought that maybe you were … you know." 

"A voyeur?" 

She shrugged her shoulders and he saw a faint hint of sadness in her eyes. "Interested." 

He started to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him. "Please don't tell me it's 'highly illogical'. I know it is." As if suddenly realizing she was seated on the floor of the lift, she grabbed onto one of the handrails, bypassing the proffered Vulcan hand, and hauled herself to her feet. 

"Have you ever wanted something, Mister Spock? Wanted it so much that it physically hurt? Wanted it even though you know deep in your heart that you can never have it? But there's still that pathetic shred of hope… so I took my shot." 

"Your 'shot'?" 

"Sorry, I forget Vulcans don't use figures of speech. I took a chance that perhaps you might … I don't know, want…"

"To mate with you?" 

"I would have couched it in more poetic terms, but I think you've got the basic idea." Though his experience with human females was minimal, he felt certain that she was about to cry and braced himself for the emotional onslaught. But curiously, there were no tears she was in fact laughing. 

"I'm sorry," she said noting his puzzled expression "It's not funny… really it's not." 

"No," he agreed gently, "it is not." 

"I'm sorry," she repeated, the laughter gone. "I embarrassed you, I've totally humiliated myself, maybe we should just agree that neither of us conducted ourselves in a particularly becoming way this afternoon and call it even?" 

"I would find that course of action most agreeable," he said nodding tightly. 

"Well, I've got some tests than need attending, so if we're finished here Commander…" she reached across him to the control panel of the turbolift and reentered the Med lab code. 

"Yes." Spock said as the doors swished open and Christine exited into the deserted hallway. 

"Yes?" 

"I have wanted something I thought I could not have." 

"What did you do?" she asked. 

"Nothing." He responded as the door closed between them. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Spock dropped into his desk chair resigned to what he must do. Meditation had proved fruitless in discerning some alternate path. He regarded the computer screen through steepled fingers. It was only necessary to click on send and the transfer would take effect immediately. He'd gone to great lengths to find a suitable position; the opening on Centauri Prime was an upward, career enhancing move, with a Lieutenant Commander's stripe to smooth over the questionable ethics of a superior officer removing a crewmember for his own comfort. No one, except perhaps Christine, would suspect a hidden motive in the abrupt transfer. 

"Illogical, totally illogical," he sighed, then shook his head disdainfully as he clicked the send button. _Kaaidith!_ It was done. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Spock smoothed his uniform tunic a third time searching for calm within himself. ‘Surrender to the logic of the situation’; he wrapped the ancient quote from Surak around himself like a warrior's cloak. The outer doors of Sickbay opened at his approach; he took one final deep breath and entered. 

He spotted Christine standing at the nurses' station deep in conversation with DeSalle. "I just wish we had time for a proper goodbye." DeSalle smiled as he brushed his fingers lightly down her arm. He leaned in close and was about to kiss her when the Spock cleared his throat catching their attention. 

"Commander," Christine and DeSalle pulled apart hurriedly at the intrusion. "Was there something you wanted, sir?" Christine asked coolly. 

"A word, Doctor," he cast a quick glance to DeSalle, "If that is convenient." "I was just leaving, sir." DeSalle offered stiffly heading for the door. "Goodbye, Chris." 

Spock felt a momentary wave of guilt as the Lieutenant walked through the Sickbay doors but it quickly passed. DeSalle was an ambitious, attractive young officer who would, no doubt find other deals to seal on Centauri Prime. 

"You are saddened that Mister DeSalle is leaving?" 

Christine crossed her arms over her chest defensively and fixed him with a steely gaze. "My feelings on the Lieutenant's departure will have no impact on ship's function, Commander, you have no need for concern." 

"You desired him?" 

Christine studied him for a moment not certain if he was making a statement or asking her a question." I was infatuated with him. Infatuation by its nature has a rather short shelf life." 

"Shelf life?" 

Christine sighed, "Sorry, it doesn't last long." 

"It is not love?" 

"No it's not love." 

"Love, is more permanent?" "It would seem so." 

"So, you are over him?" 

"Actually I was never under him." 

"Under him?" Spock responded raising a puzzled eyebrow. 

"You wanted to speak to me about something, Commander?" Christine moved closer to the deserted nurses' station,

"Yes," he responded anxiously. "I have been meditating on the incident on Avila II." 

She turned her attention to rearranging the chartpads on the counter. "If you've come to apologize again I can assure you it's not necessary." 

"I have not come to apologize, but there are things I wish to settle between us, things that need to be spoken, things which need to be understood."

"There is nothing that needs to be said…"

He held up a hand to silence her. "I…I cannot love you…"

"I got that memo five years ago, Commander. But it was very thoughtful of you to provide the update." She scooped up a handful of the chartpads and stormed into her office the sharp snap of the privacy lock cutting through the silence of the empty sickbay. 

"Well that went well." Sighing he palmed the chime on Christine's office. 

"Go away!" 

"I am not going anywhere until you open the door and listen to what I have to say. You know I can override your lock, please do not force me to do that, Christine." 

Several tense moments passed and his hand was just hovering over the lock panel when the lock disengaged with a sharp clicking sound. 

The door swept open with a gentle hiss and she stood on the other side of the door, her hands on her hips defiantly. 

"I want your word that once I let say what you've come to say that you will leave." 

He nodded tightly. 

"Fine, out with it." He took a long deep breath before beginning. "As I said, I cannot love you…"

"Medically speaking, I think it's safe to pronounce that horse dead." 

"Doctor," he responded with a surprising sharpness. "You 'took your shot', I believe good sportsmanship would dictate that I be allowed to take my shot with no further interruption on your part." 

"Be my guest." 

"I cannot love you as a human male would love you. Though I believe in time that will change. I believe that the… the feelings I have for you are consistent with the feelings a Vulcan male would hold for his mate. It is not, as you would say, 'poetic' but it is genuine." 

"Mate? You want us to get married?" 

"Not today, I am due on the bridge in less than half an hour. But if we are to join ourselves into such an intimate relationship I would desire a formal commitment between us. Would you not wish that as well?" 

"But it hasn't been seven years since…I mean how could we …you know, you can't…." She regarded the him in stunned silence for a few moments before picking up a small tricorder from her desk and hastily running a diagnostic scan. "Maybe one of the plants you handled on the planet could have caused some sort of hormonal imbalance and triggered your… you know.." she paused blushing. "That would explain all of this." 

He snatched the apparatus from her hand and slapped it down onto the desk. "There is nothing wrong with me, Christine, and to clarify I am quite capable of engaging in sexual intercourse outside of the _Pon Farr_."

"The medical literature has been inconclusive…"

He regarded her with a raised eyebrow and a faint expression of amusement. "If you require a 'conclusive' demonstration I would be happy to accommodate you." He moved toward her, gently wrapping one arm around her waist, pressing forward until he had he pinned against the metal wall. His lips were a fraction of an inch away when he felt her body tense and she pushed him away. 

"Given the nature of your feelings for me I had assumed my sentiments would be more welcome." 

"It's just a lot to take in. You want to marry me?" 

"Yes. You do not wish such a union?" 

"I don't know, maybe. Could we start out with dinner and kind of work our way from there?" "I would find that agreeable. Shall we meet in the Officer's Mess after Gamma shift?" 

Spock saw the trace of a frown cross her face. "How about somewhere not quite so…public?" 

"You do not wish to be seen with me?" 

"I don't wish for us to be seen together, not yet anyway." 

"I do not understand?" 

"Do you really want to spend our first date fending off Leonard's questions about why the two of us are having dinner together?" 

"I had not considered that we would have to endure the scrutiny of the good doctor. Perhaps we would find a more intimate venue pleasurable." 

"Perhaps. You're going to be late for duty." 

"It will take two point oh seven minutes to get from here to the bridge. That leaves me with two point eight six minutes." He pulled her to him and captured her lips in a deep, searing kiss before reluctantly releasing her. 

"You will meet me later?" 

"Yes," she responded out of breath, and her smile was once again the warm open smile he remembered. 

He headed for the turbolift and was about to press the button for the bridge when he turned around walked back through sickbay and into Christine's office. He keyed the code for the Captain's station into the comm. unit on her desk. 

"Kirk here"

"Captain, I am in need of a few hours of personal time if you can spare me?" 

"Shouldn't be a problem…I'll have Chekov more over to your station and bring up Ensign Davison from Engineering to man navigation, I've been wanting to give him a tryout on the bridge." 

"Thank you sir. Spock out." 

"Personal time?" Christine asked he shut down the comm unit. 

"Yes, I have a physics problem that demands my attention." 

"Physics?" 

"Specifically I wish to explore the principle of inertia. Comptuter, secure privacy lock sickbay office Doctor Christine Chapel authorization Spock pi gamma four four." 

He pulled her to him and kissed her again, as his long fingers deftly began the process of unfastening her uniform tunic, and for the next few hours they explored the physics of bodies in motion.


End file.
